Punched Out
by Xcite
Summary: Everything started out with a simple, silly idea: What would happen if Saitama punched himself?


Saitama was standing in his small balcony. His hands supported his weight while he leaned against the handrail. He was watching the city view: strokes of blue and purple were visible across the sky, accompanying the first night stars before the sun completely went down. People rushed from place to place, hurrying to get home. It _could_ be a beautiful sight.  
Yet, for him, it wasn't. Saitama wasn't feeling anything _._ He was just _there._ And it bothered him.

A soft knock on the door broke the silence of Saitama's small apartment. Not surprisingly, it was Genos coming back from a meeting held by the Hero Association. From opening the door to sitting down by the table with him, he wasn't listening to a word the cyborg said. _Blah blah blah.  
_ "Mhmm." Saitama mindlessly answered to another line of Genos's report. With a hand under his chin, he stared at his disciple who was still rambling about the Hero Association. At least he caught that part.

Damn it. He was doing it again. He was just _there,_ not listening to a word Genos was saying and occasionally nodding because he had grown too accustomed to not caring about anyone- or anything. Saitama furrowed and pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes to _get his damn thoughts together-  
_ "Sensei," Genos cut off his speech, "is something bothering you?" Was it that obvious? "You seem disturbed."

Saitama leaned back on his hands. No, everything was alright. He shoved the feeling back down. "Oh? Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." There was no need for his disciple to know 'not caring' was annoying the living daylight out of him. Saitama shrugged the feeling off and _damn it he was acting apathetic again, and not caring about anything seemed like the right choice to do and at the same time it wasn't and why was he being like this?_

"If so you wish, Sensei."Genos became quieter. There was an irking silence between them. Saitama straightened up. "Genos," He started talking out of the blue. This had been on his mind for a while, "what would happen if I punched _myself_?"  
Did Genos hear that correctly? Or were his audio receptors malfunctioning? "I'm not sure I understood what you meant, Sensei."  
The tiny cracks on the ceiling looked more interesting than before to Saitama now. He took his eyes off the cyborg, gazing at the ceiling in return. _That sounded way better in my head._ Saitama cringed at the thought, realizing how stupid it may have sounded to the other in front of him. Though, he was far too curious to let go of it. He wanted to try it. What would happen? Would it merely leave a single scratch on his face if he was to be met with one of his own punches or would his body completely give out?

 _Why_ he wanted to do it was another question. Being curious about it was merely an excuse.  
There was a slight hope, a faint glimmer of hope that doing it would make him _sense_ something.

"Nevermind." Saitama ignored Genos's question. He walked to the kitchen and filled the kettle with water. "Oi Genos, do you want green tea…or something else?" He added the last part as he couldn't think of any other choice. Heck, Saitama wasn't sure if he had anything other than green tea available. Lucky enough for him, Genos went with the first option.

It would take a while for the water to boil. Meanwhile, the bald hero idled in the kitchen, thankful of finding a good excuse to stay away from Genos. Man, he would get weird when he was bored. What was that question he brought up? He shoved his thoughts away. That way, everything would be better. He was better off being the unconcerned Caped Baldy he was.

With two cups of steaming beverage in his hands, Saitama stumbled back to the table in his small living room. He placed one in front of Genos (who thanked him right away) and went to lazily flick through tv channels on his futon, in case some monster popped up and went rampage in the cities. The two sipped on their green tea quietly.

"Sensei, I think you should try it." Genos spoke. Saitama, caught off-guard by the sudden statement, bleakly looked at his disciple.  
"Try what?"  
"The… question you asked earlier."  
 _Damn._ He was still thinking about the stupid thing Saitama said. But then again, there was no harm in trying… after all, Saitama was quite curious to know the outcome himself.  
"Yeah, I should." The bald hero marched to his closet and took his hero uniform out. He started putting the outfit on.  
"N-now, Master?" Genos interrupted.  
"If not now, then when?" Saitama pulled on his gloves and stretched his arms. "C'mon, I want to see what happens."

His disciple was quick to act. He donned his tank top and walked out his Master's apartment before Saitama did. Once outside, their footsteps echoed through the neighborhood, aside from the mechanical whirring coming from Genos's core and gears.

A few minutes into walking, Saitama skidded to a halt (it wasn't hard to find a practice spot, but the bald hero wanted to maintain a safe distance from his apartment). The two were standing in one of the empty streets of Saitama's abandoned neighborhood. He walked a few steps away from Genos and stood in a straight stance. Genos nodded affirmatively, though, he seemed quite concerned about what was to come.

 _Here goes nothing._ Saitama brought a fist up. He extended his arm in a calculated distance (he was going for a normal punch. It wasn't too wise to throw a super serious one before knowing the result). His fist collided with cheekbone, his knuckles smashing against his own face. It happened in less than a second, and he was lifted off his feet.  
 _Boom!_ The wall behind him was pierced as Saitama wildly projected towards it. A wisp of smoke arose from the smashed stone and concrete.

"Sensei!" Genos yelled in panic. He ran to the pile of rubble thrown around from the harsh impact. His strong metal arms pushed through concrete. "Sensei!"  
He had lost his composure. Genos dug his hands deeper every time. This was _weird._ It was always his Master who would get him out of a tight spot, not the opposite.  
The pile of smashed concrete rumbled and Saitama emerged from underneath it. To Genos's surprise, he was unharmed, if he didn't count the rough cut on Saitama's face.

Saitama blinked blankly a few times after firmly standing on the pile, adjusting to the impact.  
What was that?!

"Sensei, are you-"  
Saitama beamed.  
He was _smiling._ He felt something he hadn't in a very long time. The hit that landed on him, actually made him _feel_ something. His smile broke into a wide grin. Pain was something he hadn't experienced in a long period.  
A warm liquid trekked down his cheek where he punched himself. Saitama wiped it with his glove, which he regretted it soon after; he was bleeding. The cut on his face stung. It wasn't anything of importance. Though, it made him feel… _alive._

"Master, are you alright?!" Saitama picked up the slight crack in Genos's voice. He had stopped digging, and instead was eyeing his Master cautiously.  
"Yeah. So that's what happens…"  
It _hurt_. He didn't know he could feel pain any more.

But the feeling died down too soon. As his smile faded away, his expression turned serious and cold. It was good while it lasted. Huh, if only there was _some way_ he could feel like this again…

"Oh, I got dust in my special spot." Saitama swept his hands across his suit's belt and shook the rubble off. He cursed under his breath; there was blood on his glove. He started walking down the empty street and broke into a fast pace. Genos followed obediently.  
"Sensei, where…?"  
"I need to wash this right away!" Darn it, it would dry up and leave a spot on his glove if he didn't, even though the splotch wouldn't be too noticeable as it blended with the red color of his glove. But Saitama was Saitama; he was starting to freak out about it. He _had_ to wash it.

"We have to get home soon anyway and sleep, in case anything happens tomorrow." But he had priorities. Right now, he was focused on getting that pesky patch off his costume.  
Genos walked swiftly along his Master. He had never seen Saitama-Sensei bleed. No one they had come across so far was strong enough to land a working blow on him. More importantly, he had never seen him… _smile._ Not like this.

Saiama was too lost in thinking about earlier: what he did was stupid. No doubt it was dumb to punch himself across the face, and he was sure everyone back at the Hero Organization would question the scar on his cheek when the two showed up there. But hey, since he got a kick out of it, he could live with it. He entered his apartment with his disciple feeling slightly lighthearted.  
Lighthearted? That sounded wrong.

He wasn't sure if he liked this new feeling or not.

* * *

A/N: Feel free to point out the highs and the lows of this fic.  
Review if you may. Thank you for reading.


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